


1,013,913

by applesmokedgouda



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom
Genre: Explicit Sex, F/M, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied Self-Harm/Cutting, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applesmokedgouda/pseuds/applesmokedgouda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A romantic fic between Benedict Cumberbatch and an aspiring actress named Rachel Fischer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1,013,913 - Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the Benedict Cumberbatch Sexual Frustration Blog (http://bcsexualfrustrationblog.tumblr.com) under my tumblr URL applesmokedgouda. Still a WIP with about seven chapters finished. I'm just now posting it here on A03 because laziness, yay.

_**1,013,913 – Chapter 1** _

 

_Uggh. Why did I pick **that** song for my ringtone?_ I think as the music wakes me from a dead sleep. Oh well. I needed to get up anyway; it was 3:45 pm. I reluctantly pick up and look at the phone. Caller ID says it’s my agent, and five bucks says there’s no good news; its just the weekly “sorry, but nothing new.” I pick up the phone and sigh.

 

“Anything, Guy?”

 

“Rachel!” Guy yells enthusiastically. “I gotcha one!”

 

“Well, don’t just sit there!” I gasp, pumped by the prospect of an audition. “Give me details, man. Details!”

 

“The flick’s a remake of Snow White -- Brother’s Grimm, not that Disney bullshit. You land it; you’ll be the evil queen, Snow’s stepmother. I saw the description, and knew it’d be perfect for you! Dark hair and pale skin? You’ll definitely land it. I mean, you scared me out of my skin first time we met. Thought you were a ghost! You’re so pasty white, I –“

 

“Guy!” I interrupt. “I get it. I’m the only one in California without a tan! Now _please_ , while I still have some _shred_ of my sanity left, tell me about the movie. Where is it shooting?”

 

“Oh! That’s the best part! Nail your audition, and you go to London! I know how much you love it there.”

 

He was right. I was a full-on anglophile. One of the more healthy –philes to be, in my opinion. “So when’s the audition, what do I need?” I ask.

 

“Tomorrow, 3:30, the Alano Club. One-minute drama, one-minute comedy. And Rach, you know how much I love ya, I really want this for ya. Be memorable, be original. Give ‘em something they’ve never heard before, but be sure to knock their socks off… Oh! I’ve got just the thing.” All I hear is a mad ruffling of papers before a muffled “Kristin! Where’re those plays Wolffe an’ Koffe wrote?” An undistinguishable feminine response.

 

I waited, and Kate probably waited too (that was her name, Kate, not Kristin. At least I pay attention to his assistants) for a “thanks” or even an “I found them.” But Guy just wasn’t the “thank you” type.

 

“Okay Rachel,” he gruffs, “I’m faxing you the scripts right now. I’ve highlighted the monologues I want you to do tomorrow, what you do with the rest of the script is up to you. But read ‘em, they’re good. Hey! Read ‘em on the plane to London, after you get that part!”

 

I laugh. “Alright Guy, you got it! You’re really the best, you know that? Always watching out for me.”

 

He clears his throat. “Call me after.”

 

“You bet!” I say cheerfully, and hang up. This was the first audition I’d had in _months_ ; I was _not_ going to blow it. I was _going_ to get that part. The scripts finished printing. I shambled over to the left side of my small studio apartment, the area I had christened the “Office”.

 

*****

 

There were the standard blonde Hollywood girls at the audition; with their soft, high voices and their even higher skirts. What I wore was simple; A black dress with a navy belt and matching clutch. Minimal eye makeup, and bright red lipstick. My black hair was wavy, slightly curly and bouncy, with my good luck charm – a dinglehopper pin like the one from the Little Mermaid. I wasn’t as thin or petite as the other girls; I had curves. And the dress I was wearing helped me rock ‘em.

 

I signed in, and then went over the monologues in my head. When I was sure I had them, I opened my purse to grab my phone. Making sure it was on vibrate, I checked to see if I had any messages. None. Surprise, surprise.

 

I waited. Checked my makeup. Waited. Checked my hair. Waited. Reapplied my lipstick. Waited. Finally, it was just myself and one other girl. She had dark hair too, but she was tan. Very foreign-looking. She went in before me, meaning I was last. Crap. She smiled at me, and instantly I doubted myself. She had one of those knowing smiles that can tear down your self-esteem to the foundation.

 

I composed myself, and thought things out rationally. I was last, meaning the producers and directors were ready to go home; they didn’t want to sit through yet _another_ audition. _Well_ , I thought. _They may not want to see me, but they are **damn** well going to enjoy my performance!_ I was up. I walked in, cream-colored heels clicking on the tile floor. I closed the door. “Gentlemen.” I announced, smiling my most genuine smile. “You’ve saved the best for last.” This earned me a few chuckles from the table.

 

*****

 

After the audition, I felt I had done well enough to treat myself to some ice cream. Though it was winter, in SoCal it was only 67 degrees. So I stopped at the nearby drugstore to pick some of my favorite flavor. While stopped at a red light, I decided to call Guy. He picked up after the third ring.

 

“Rachel!” he exclaimes, “How did it go?”

 

“Really well,” I answered with a smile, “I just bought some celebratory ice cream.”

 

“Well, have an extra scoop on me. I’m proud of ya.”

 

“Thanks, Guy” I smiled. “The auditions only ended 20 minutes ago, you got any good news yet?”

 

“Sweetheart,” Guy said, “You’ll be the first to know.”

 

*****

 

My phone rings and wakes me up again. _Ugh._ I think. _What’s worse, my sleeping pattern or my career?_ It was four o’clock, three days after the audition. I pick up the phone. Guy was calling. _I will **not** get my hopes up, _I thought. _It was probably that tan girl who got it._ I pick up the phone. “Hello, my _fabulous_ agent!” I shout cheerfully.

 

“Ah!” he replies, “My _favorite_ client! Okay, I’ve got good news and bad news; which do you wanna hear first?”

 

“Bad news,” I said, bracing myself for the inevitable.

 

“They don’t want you for the queen.”

 

I let out a slow sigh. “Okay. I’m okay with that. I actually kinda figured… You said there was good news?” I ask, thinking he had lined up another audition.

 

“Yeah.” He says. “Pack your bags. They didn’t want you for the evil queen, they wanted you for _Snow White._ ”

 

…

 

Did I scream? Did I cry? Did I drop the phone? Maybe I did all three. After a few moments, I hear my agent’s gruff voice bring me down to Earth. “Rachel? … Sweetheart? You OK?”

 

“Yeah Guy, I’m… I’m just great.”

 

“Good. They’re gonna get you a flat once you get there. You’ll need to break the lease on the apartment that you’re in now, because you’ll be in London for over a year. Pack your bags, Princess, you leave next week.”

 

“Okay” I said, aghast. “Will. Like, the producers or director or somebody call me?”

 

“Probably. I gave ‘em your phone number and your fax number. Speaking of, I’ll fax you your plane ticket. Now, kid, do me a solid. Call your mom. Because if she finds out that you left the country without saying ‘goodbye’, she’ll skin my hide.”

 

“Alright.” I gave in. “I’ll call her now.”

 

“Good!” he exclaimed. “And kid. I just want you to know that I’m proud of you.”

 

“Thanks, Guy.” I smiled and hung up.

 

*****

 

After three hours on the phone with my mom, assuring her I’d be fine and that this was my big break, I hung up. My phone rang again, this time from an unknown caller. I smiled. I was very popular today.

 

“This is Rachel?” I said as I picked up the phone.

 

“Rachel!” A man’s voice exclaims. “This is Andy Kirk, we’re so pleased to have you on our team! This movie is gonna be _fantastic!_ ”

 

“Kirk?” I say hesitantly. “Like the cap –“

 

“Like the captain from Star Trek, yes, I know. … Y’know, I’m impressed. I did not expect you to be a Trekkie.”

 

“Well Mr. Kirk…” I begin, “I suppose this leaves only one question.”

 

“What’s that, my dear?”

 

“Shatner or Stewart?”

 

“Easy. Stewart.”

 

“Mr. Kirk,” I said, “I think we are going to get along swimmingly.”

 

*****

 

After the four and a half hour flight to New York and the two-hour layover at LaGuardia, I was ready for the eight-hour trip across the pond. Eight hours. _Geez,_ that was a long time. It’s a good thing these planes have wi-fi. While on the plane, I watched the Sherlock unaired pilot (gay), looked at fanart, (super gay), and read some fanfiction (gay until gay _gay **gay)**_ on my laptop.

 

*****

 

Compared to Southern California, which, at its coldest, was a balmy 62 degrees, London was _freezing._ I finally got to my flat in the “city centere”, as they called it, and decided that unpacking could wait a little bit. I was hungry, and after checking the kitchen and finding no food, I decided to try the pub across the street, excited at the thought of being able to go _inside_ and have a _drink_ , thanks to the lower age limit over here.

 

*****

 

It was ten pm before I finally let myself sleep. I was _determined_ to beat jetlag and establish a good sleeping pattern. The fries -sorry, _chips_ \- I had at the pub were delicious. Salty and garlicky, just… YUM! The red wine made everything taste better, and it also made me warmer. I brushed my teeth and walked into the bedroom. The bedroom! This flat had different rooms!

 

I was in London, and I was happy. I’m pretty sure I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

 

*****

 

That. Damn. Phone. I _desperately_ needed to change that ringtone. I checked the time. _10 am?! I slept for twelve hours?! How?_

 

“H’lo?” I asked sleepily as I picked up the phone.

 

“Rachel!” said a semi-familiar voice. “It’s Andy Kirk! How are you this _fine_ morning?”

 

“Uh. Good?” This man was _far_ too cheerful for me this early in the morning.

 

Andy laughed heartily. “You just woke up.”

 

“You are correct, sir.”

 

“Okay, well get dressed! We’re having a welcome brunch with the whole cast! Time to meet everyone!”

 

“Mmkay. Where do I need to be, and how do I get there?”

 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” he answered. “I’ve got your _prince_ coming to pick you up in a half hour. Wake yourself up, but don’t eat anything; we’ve got pancakes!”

 

“Kay. See you soon, Andy.” I threw the device on my bed and got dressed. I figured casual would be best. Black skinny jeans and my “I am SHER locked” t-shirt. I ran a brush through my hair, thankful that it was naturally somewhat straight. I hunted through my bags for deodorant for about a half hour before giving up. I checked my phone. 10:34. Great. My “leading man,” whoever he was, should be here any second.

 

*****

 

10:45; and nobody was here.

 

*****

 

11:00; and still nothing. I figure it must be traffic.

 

*****

 

11:15; maybe they forgot about me? No. I was _not_ going to let my low self-esteem get me this time. He was just late, whoever he was. All of a sudden, I hear the roar of a motorcycle coming down my street. _Ugh. What pretentious asshole revs his bike right outside of a residential area? Rude._ The sound of the bike got louder, until it stopped outside my door. _So the assbutt is my costar. **Great.**_

****

Three swift, knocks. I rose from the armchair, bracing myself for the type of guy I was used to. Bad boy, rides a Harley, not very bright, handsome in the _ugliest_ sort of way. I opened the door and was struck with the sight of the most recognizable par of lips I had ever known. Angling my head upward to look into the infamous galaxy eyes, he _spoke._ That rich, baritone voice that I knew so well from movies and television shows spoke; and he spoke to _me._

 

“Excuse my tardiness. I am so, so sorry for making you wait. I’m Ben.”


	2. 1,013,913 – Chapter 2

_Words, Rachel. WORDS! Say **something.** What did he just say? He was Ben. But I already knew that. Oh, God. He’s staring at you, think of something to say, quick!_

“H-hi. Rachel? Is my name. And… you’re Ben. Benedict? Ben. Okay. Is this happening? This is happening. Okay. Wow.”

 

“You alright, love? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

 

“Yeah, I’m… great. You’re – _you_ – and I’m… not wearing deodorant. I’m… awesome.”

 

“Lovely to meet you, Rachel. I take it you already know who I am. … Nice shirt, by the way.”

 

I look down stupidly at the black shirt with white writing, all the while thinking how good it would look crumpled on the floor next to the baby blue button-down he was wearing.

 

He chuckled. _Crap._ I thought. “Did I… Did I say that out loud?” I asked sheepishly. He nodded. “Okay, Rachel, this is great.” I say under my breath as I step away from the door ad begin to pace the flat. “You’re making a fool out of yourself in front of the man you crushed on since you were fifteen. The same man is also playing your romantic interest in the fist _actual_ movie you’ve ever been cast in. Okay. You’re not wearing deodorant; you’re not wearing makeup…” I feel my breathing get faster and faster; until it’s obvious I’m in danger of hyperventilating. Great way to make a first impression…

 

My thought process is shut down after I feel a pair of big, slender hands grab my shoulders. When did he walk in? “Shh.” He says; and I detect a hit of sharpness to his voice that forces me to close my mouth and obey.

 

“Rachel, I want you to listen to me. I do my research on all my costars. I know you’re prone to panic attacks, I know you’ve had a few on set. It seems to me like you’re starting to have one now. I want you to calm down and listen to my voice. Can you do that?”

 

All I do is nod and close my eyes. “Good.” He says. “I’m just gonna talk to you for a minute, and then, if you’re feeling up to it, we’ll go to lunch with the cast, okay?” I nod again. His strong hands guide me over to the armchair, where he gently pushes me into it. He kneels down on my left, and though his hand never stops touching me, it slides down my shoulder to my forearm where bare skin meets bare skin and I am electrified.

 

“How do you usually calm yourself down?” he asks. I was afraid to tell him I imagine him comforting me. As stupid as it sounds, it works. “Breathing” I manage to choke out.

 

“Do you want me to… Should I rub your back or something?”

 

 “Yeah, okay” I say.

 

“Okay.” He says as he moves over behind me, not once removing his hands from my body.

 

He leans me forward so my head is between my knees, to keep me from passing out. He begins to rub light circles on my back while counting my breaths with me; in for five, and out for five. After a minute or so, my heart rate slows back to normal. “Do you have medicine you need to take?” he asks, obviously concerned.

 

“Front pocket” I manage to choke out, pointing to the backpack on the counter. Ben hesitates, as if not sure if he wants to stop touching me. He finally does though, and moves to the kitchen to look for water. “I’m right here.” He says. “I’m not leaving you. I’m just going to get you some water.”

 

“Bottle” I say, and hold up a somewhat full bottle that I had gotten from the pub last night.

 

“Oh. Okay. Here, let me get your medicine.” He says with a soothing smile that melts my heart. Ben unzips the front pocket and pulls out a familiar orange bottle, uncaps it, and removes a pill. I swallow it down without hesitation. “Feeling better now?”

 

“Much” I answer.

 

“Do you want to- Are you feeling up to going? If you’re not, that’s perfectly all right. You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” He says sympathetically.

 

“No, no. I’m okay now; really, I’m fine.” I lie. I was not going to look like a fool in front of Benedict Cumberbatch any more than I absolutely had to.

 

“Alright, if you’re sure.” He smiles. “You may want a coat, it’s a bit nippy out there.”

 

I rummage through my backpack until I find what I’m looking for. My favorite jacket, the black pullover hoodie with the white outline of a TARDIS on the front. Ben looks at it and smiles. “Good show.” He comments.

 

“ _Great_ show.” I correct, and we both chuckle. We walk out of the flat, and as I lock the door, Ben puts something on my head.

 

“You’ll be needing this.” He says with a smile. _Oh._ I think. _Motorcycle, right._ “Ever rode one before?” he asks.

 

“Do arcade games count?” He chuckles again, and I feel immensely pleased with myself that I got a laugh out of _Benedict **freaking** Cumberbatch._ He hops on the bike, and motions for me to sit behind him, so I do, and, after buckling my helmet, hang on tight around his waist.

 

*****

 

When we arrive (in record time, I might add; Ben might be perpetually late, but the speed of his motorbike surely compensates), I meet the rest of the cast and producers. First, Andy introduces me to the one man who will play all seven dwarves, Jonah Green (Pleasure to meet you, you seem lovely). Then, I meet the producers. (I’m sure they had names; I just can’t seem to remember what they were… Oh, well). The tan, dark-haired beauty from the auditions was there too. Her name was Liza, and she was to play my stepmother, as I had originally thought.

 

“…And, of course, you know Benedict. Ben, what did I tell you about being late, hmm? Poor girl hasn’t had a thing to eat since she woke up, and here it is almost noon! Let’s get some food in her! Poor jetlagged thing, I had to wake her up at ten!”

 

“Oh, Andy, left to my own devices, I would have slept until 7:30 tonight!” That gets a chuckle from present company, Benedict included. “I’m just glad Ben here showed up when he did; I was thinking about going back to sleep!” This statement earns a laugh a bit louder, and Ben shoots me a knowing smile.

 

*****

 

We arrive back at my flat, Ben and I, full on tea and pancakes and laughter. Our group certainly is an uproarious bunch. “Mr. Green has _quite_ the dirty mind.” I observe as I unlock the door.

 

“Yeah, sorry about him, he thinks every time I sit next to a beautiful woman, he thinks we’re shagging” Ben replies with a shy smile. He was sitting in between me and Andy Kirk, with Jonah across from him.

 

“Yeah, Andy is _quite_ beautiful, she’s lucky to have you” I joke. Ben smiles. “Would you like to, uh, doyouwanttocomein? I mean, if you’ve got nowhere else to be…”

 

“That’d be nice, thank you. Ur, I hate to be a bother but, may I use your restroom?”

 

“Oh, of course!” I motion down the hall. “First door on the right. I think. I don’t know, this place is new to me. Just look around and I’m sure you’ll find it.”

 

“Thank you darling.” He says with a dimpled smile and I feel the blush creeping up my skin.

 

I move into the kitchen and put the kettle on. I manage to find two teacups, a few bags of tea and a jar of instant coffee. I hear the toilet flush and the sink begin to run. “Ben?” I call. “Do you want coffee or tea?”

 

“Oh, doesn’t matter to me, just be sure to put a little cream in whatever you choose.” He calls back.

 

_Well._ I think. _Tea it is then._ I steep the tea for as long as it takes me to sing the ABC’s forwards and backwards, a trick I had been doing since high school. Cream, honey, and a tiny spoonful of sugar all made their way into the cups. “Just have a seat in the living room,” I shout, “Tea’s ready!” I pick up the tea and watch the steam dance around in the air above the cups; so graceful. It’s amazing, the effect the simple things can have on me. I sigh, and attempt to find images in the steam, scrying like a witch would, until my body connects with something and the tea goes _everywhere,_ and I manage to yelp.

 

“Oh crap!” I yell. “I thought you were in the living room!” I grab a nearby tea towel and gingerly begin to mop up his beautiful baby blue button down, now stained because of my clumsiness. “Ohmigawd, I’m so sorry. I can wash that, I think. I think I have a washer? I don’t know, I’ve only lived here for a day. Oh, Christ, I’m so sorry.” I spit out quickly.

 

“Rachel.” He grabs my shoulders. “It’s fine. _I_ snuck up on _you,_ remember? There’s no big deal, I’m wearing a T-shirt, I always do, so it’s _fine_. Really, Rachel, no big deal. Look.” Ben unbuttons his shirt slowly, and I feel as if I should look away. He works the stained shirt off his shoulders, and when I look back, I see very clearly his waist to shoulder ratio. Though ten years my senior, I still had very strong feelings for this man.

 

“Okay, yeah, you can wash that when you get home. Good thing you were wearing that under shirt.” I say shyly.

 

“I always do. … So let’s give up on the tea, shall we? We can just talk for a while. C’mon.” He moves towards the living room. I follow, only vaguely aware that the living room only has one armchair. When we get there, I offer it to him, and lean against the coffee table. I was very glad that the flat came somewhat furnished; otherwise we’d both be sitting on the floor. We sit, and all he does is look at me for a good thirty seconds. As the seconds tick by, I get more and more uncomfortable. When he _finally_ meets my eyes again, there is still nothing but silence.

 

“Should I… Say something?” I ask. “Or are we doing an awkward pause thing?”

 

“We can do whatever you want” He replies with a smile.

 

The true innuendo of his statement didn’t hit me until he went home a few hours later. Instead, I responded to his “whatever you want” with “Can we watch Star Trek TNG? It’s on Netflix.”

 

*****

 

Ben and I had pushed the chair against the coffee table and were sitting against its legs, with my computer on the coffee table. After a few episodes of sass, Benedict paused the show and looked at me.  “How do you feel, Rachel?”

 

_Peachy._ I thought. _I’m sitting here watching one of my favorite shows with one of my favorite actors sitting right next to me, **and** he knows my name, **and** we’re acting together in a movie, **and** he plays my romantic interest. _“Spectacular.”

 

“Wonderful. Now, regrettably, it _is_ getting late, and while I’d _love_ to watch Star Trek into the wee hours of the morning with you, we have rehearsal tomorrow. Also, Andy wants us to be off book by Wednesday. Can you do that?”

 

“Already done.” He looks incredulous. “It-it was a long plane ride.” I cover. _Actually,_ I thought, _I’ve been so excited for this movie I was memorized a week ago._

“Got it.”

 

“So, see you tomorrow. Will you pick me up again? I’m not entirely sure where I need to go…”

 

“Of course I will.” Ben says as he walks toward the door, wrapping his scarf around him tightly. “See you then”

 

“And Ben,” I add.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Don’t be late.”

 

“Hmm. I’ll do my best. I’ll be here around 7:30, so we can plan to be there at eight.”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

“Hmmm… See you tomorrow, Miss Rachel.” He says and kisses me on the cheek.

 

As soon as he’s out the door, I swoon and fall into the armchair. A bit overdramatic, I know, but what would you do if _Benedict **freaking Cumberbatch**_ kissed you on the cheek?


	3. 1,013,913 - Chapter 3

After several days of rehearsal, it was time to begin filming. The first scene we shot was when we were in Snow White’s bedroom, and the prince came to see her, they embrace, and Snow White’s stepmother interrupts. It was a kissing scene. Not that I was complaining, mind you, I just didn’t know how it as going to be possible for me to tear my lips off of his perfect pair.

*****

“Snow.” He breathed, pushing himself up and through the window.

“You’re here. I can’t believe it’s really you, and you’re really here.” I respond.

“Twenty days without the taste of your lips is twenty days too many. My darling… Let’s make up for lost time.” And just like that, he crossed the room to my bed and pulled me down on top of him. And we were kissing. And it was wonderful. His soft lips caressing mine, tongue barely leaving his lips to pad across mine. And in one swift movement, he flipped us over so he was on top, and the kiss deepened, our tongues massaging each other, exploring one another’s mouths, earning slight moans from each other. And then, all at once, there was a shrill “Snow White!” And the kissing stopped. And I felt more empty then I ever had before.

“What is the meaning of this? You were taken away from this man for good reason, and now he thinks he can just come and take you whenever he wants? Get out!” The Prince hastily leaves the same way he came in; through the window. “Snow White.” Stepmother’s face softens. “You are far too beautiful for your own good.” She strokes my cheek. “Later today, I need you to go pick some vegetables from just outside the palace walls, just near the forest. Can you do that my dear? Without your father, I’ve just had to run this whole kingdom on my own, and gathering the vegetables would be a big help.”

“Of course, stepmother.” I say, brain still fried from the kiss. “I understand.”

“Aaaand cut! Great job, everybody! Oi, Benedict, you still behind that wall?” Says Andy.

A muffled “Um…” from outside the ‘window’. “I think I’m stuck…”

Everyone seems concerned and moves to help him, while I giggle at the circumstances. As he attempts to get un-stuck, the giggle turns into raucous, uproarious laughter, and I fall on the comfortable bed, unable to contain the ugly chortling sounds I am making. I finally sit up and open my eyes and staring straight back at me are a pair of piercing blue eyes. I manage to get a hold on my laughter.

“Something… funny?” he asks, in a voice that reminds me slightly of Alan Rickman.

I nod, trying desperately not to fall into yet another bout of giggles.

“Oh, I see. My being stuck was amusing, was it?” he growls, moving closer to me, hands outstretched, reaching for me. “Do you find this… funny?”

“Ben, what are you—Oh, no. Oh nonononono. Ben, don’t you dare. Benedict, if you take one step closer, I swear to Go—ah!” and he was tickling me, my protests lost in a stream of giggles. When his long fingers finally relented, he smiled sweetly and asked “Dinner?”

“Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch.” I begin. “If you even think I’d go to dinner with you after that, you are absolutely… correct. Dinner sounds lovely. Chinese? Takeaway at your flat? Really bad telly?”

*****

We sit, legs intertwined on his horrid green couch (the man desperately needs extreme home makeover), laugh, watch bad telly, talk, drink wine, and eat spring rolls. Right as the host of the talk show was about to reveal the paternity test results, Ben mutes the TV. “Listen.” He says. “I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

I want to protest, but something tells me I shouldn’t; I should just leave this be. He seems like he’s rehearsed this. 

“I’m going to do something right now, and I don’t want it to startle you…” he says as he leans in closer to me on the couch we’re sharing. “If this is uncomfortable for you, just tell me, and we’ll stop…” He leaned in close. Very close. Close enough to where I could feel his hot breath on my lips, and it took everything I had not to kiss him.

“Ben…” I breathe, “I… Why?” I was completely unsure why a man like Benedict was infatuated with a girl like me.

“Because life is short and you are hot.” He said, quoting one of my favorite episodes of Doctor Who. He leans in closer; hardly a millimeter between our lips.

“That’s a great episode; one of my favorites. I… Ohmigod, look, he’s not the father!” I shout and scoot away, pointing to the television, desperately trying to escape the awkwardness of the situation (which I’ve never been good at). Ben looks at the TV, then back to me, and, seeing I’ve scooted away, looks deflated. God, those puppy eyes. In almost any other circumstance, I’d do anything to make that face go away. I’d hate to hurt him. You’d think, with the level of obsession I have with him, I’d be first in line to jump his bones, but there was something in the back of my mind told me not to. Perhaps it was the vague idea that he just wanted to play a joke on me (an insecurity I’d had since high school), perhaps it was the age difference, or perhaps it was the idea that this wouldn’t be anything serious; just a fling to keep him occupied while filming. I didn’t want to be hurt by any of those options, so I figured not letting him in was the answer. Kissing him while filming was one thing; it was part of the job, and the job had to be done.

I attempt to explain myself. “Ben, its not that I don’t like you; I do. It’s just…” I consider lying to him, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything. I decide to tell him the truth. “Well, first, I’m a little wary about our age difference. I mean, you’re ten years older than I am! I’m afraid people won’t… you know… approve… And then there’s the fact that you probably don’t have feelings for me, you’re just playing a joke on me…”

Ben looks appalled, hurt, even. “Rachel, I-” His voice is shaky. He clears his throat. “I am deeply saddened to know how little you think of me.”

“Ben, I-” He holds up a hand.

“I would never do anything to hurt you. Especially something as cruel as the joke you mentioned. Why would you think I would do that?”

“I’m sorry, I just… I think that about everyone I enter into a flirtationship with. It is one of the many by-products of low self-esteem. It’s been this way since middle school, and what with the constant bullying, and put downs, not to mention…” Shut up Rachel, this isn’t even a date. You shouldn’t tell him about that. You haven’t gotten to that point in your relationship yet.

“…Not to mention what?”

“Nothing. Sorry. Forget it.”

“It sounded like something serious. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? I’m a rather good listener.” He looks hopeful, and it’s all I can do not to open up to him.

“You know what? I think I had too much wine; I shouldn’t have brought it up. Really, its nothing. I should probably get home.”

“Alright, if you’re sure. But if you’ve had too much to drink, at least allow me to escort you home. I don’t want you going missing.” Reluctantly, I agree. 

*****

The walk home was uneventful. It was only a twenty-minute walk from Benedict’s flat to mine. We approached my door. I unlocked it, then turned to face him, one step above him so we were the same height. “Y’know, all things considered, I had a lovely time.”

He looked at me, and I swear he saw my soul. “Does that mean you’d like to do it again? Maybe next time at a restaurant?”

I smiled. “I’m free on Friday.”

Ben looked like he could jump over the moon. “Great!” He nearly shouted, “I’ll pick you up at six thirty. We’re going to go to Dabbous, so wear something nice. Al-although you always look beautiful!” he covers quickly. 

I smile, hoping to look casual, and not at all as frazzled as I was. Ben smiles back, so I must look somewhat calm. “Got it. Dress fancy. I can do that. Let’s see, today’s Wednesday, we’re not called again ‘till Monday, so I’ll see you Friday.” 

Ben smiles. “I’m going to…” he clears his throat, “Uhm, can I…” he shakes his head, and kisses me on the cheek. 

I smile. “Goodnight, Ben.”

“Goodnight.”

I walk inside and close the door. 

I decide that now would be the perfect time to check tumblr. I hadn’t been on in a few days, not since I’d been in London, and I was sure that (at least some of) my followers missed me. I had a message from my best friend, Shannon, aka wayward-assbutts.

Hey movie star! You haven’t forgotten me yet, have you? How’s London? –wayward-assbutts

My response: London’s awesome! Very cold, though. Nothing too interesting. Although I do have a date Friday. You’ll never guess with who. –appesmokedgouda

What, is it Britishguy Sillyname? –wayward-assbutts

Yes, actually. –applesmokedgouda

Hold up. You have a date with Benedict Cumberbatch?! –wayward-assbutts

Yeah. He’s my romantic interest in the thing. I actually just got back from his flat. We had dinner. But that wasn’t a date. I don’t think. Well, he tried to kiss me. So I guess it was a date. Idk, man. –applesmokedgouda

He kissed you? Holy crapballs, man. –wayward-assbutts

He tried to kiss me. –applesmokedgouda

You didn’t let Benedict Cumberbatch kiss you? Dude, I’m gay, and I’d tap that. –wayard-assbutts

I know, I know. He’s like perfect. Was even nice about not kissing. –applesmokedgouda

If you fuck this up, I will never forgive you. –wayward-assbutts

I’ll do my best. Anyway, gotta get to sleep. I’m getting up (relatively) early tomorrow to go dress shopping. Gotta look good on the date! –applesmokedgouda

I still can’t believe this. I need a moment. Night –wayward-assbutts


	4. 1,013,913 – Chapter 4

After hours of searching London’s finest department stores, I find it. _The_ dress. It was a strapless, full-length gown with a slit that ended around mid-thigh on the right side. It was shiny silver on the outer layer, black on the inside. I chose a pair of black stilettos to go with, hopefully tall enough to get me a bit more even with Benedict in terms of height. I settled on no jewelry, as I felt it would take away from the dress.

 

Somehow, it turns into eight o’clock, and the stores begin to close. I realize I hadn’t eaten in about ten hours. Oh, well. I decided to drop by the pub near my flat after putting away the dress and shoes.

 

I resolve not to drink and just have dinner. I order the stereotypical British fish and chips. I had brought my book, to ensure I wouldn’t be bothered, but I make light conversation with the bartender; what I’m doing in London, how I’m liking it, et cetera.

 

*****

****

It’s three o’clock pm when my phone vibrates my pillow, waking me. I’d received a text from Benedict.

 

**_I know it’s a bit early, I’d just like to know what you’re wearing, so I can coordinate._ **

****

_How sweet. Well, you’re not seeing this dress one second before you pick me up. Also, we’d better not be taking the motorbike; this dress will NOT allow it._

**_Can I at least know the COLOUR of the dress? And of course; we’ll take a cab._ **

****

**_  
_ ** _Silver. A cab, really? How romantic. I'm swooning. :P_

**_You know me; I’ll do everything I can to sweep a lady off her feet._ **

****

_Clearly._

*****

 

After showering, I coax my hair into my favorite half-up, half-down curly style, and somehow apply a decent-looking silver smoky eye. I can’t decide what to put on my lips, so I end up using bright red lip liner, then putting on Chap Stick, bright red lipstick, and sheer lip-gloss.

 

*****

 

6:30 came and went as I expected it to, with no sign from Ben. I decided to google Dabbous so I’d know what I was getting into. Turns out, it was one of the most high-class restaurants in London! How did he manage to get a reservation? Oh. Right. He was _Benedict Cumberbatch._ I decide to text him.

 

_Not standing me up, are you? :P_

 

Not a moment later, there’s a knock on my door. I open it, and there’s Benedict, looking dashing in a suit with a silver tie.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it” he smiles and hands me a single red rose. I blush and put it on the entry table. “You look _stunning,_ my dear.”

 

“Thank you. You look quite dapper, yourself,” I respond, “So, shall we?”

 

He takes my hand and leads me to the cab. He opens the door, and motions for me to get in first, so I do. The cab ride is quiet; about five minutes in, Ben takes my hand, thumb making light circles on my palm. Occasionally, we share a nervous smile or two, but overall, the cab ride is uneventful.

 

We pull up to a corner, exit the cab, and walk inside, him holding the door for me. “Reservation for Cumberbatch, please” says Benedict with a smile. After we’re led to our table, Ben scoots a chair out for me. I sit, and he pushes me in. He orders a bottle of wine and we look over the menus. I decide on the king crab, while Ben goes for the beef short rib.

 

We make small talk about many things. How good we both look, how the weather here in London is so different than what I was used to, and how tasty the wine was. Eventually, we fall into a silence. I sip my wine and look down at the silverware. “I’m sorry for being so dull and boring.” Ben apologizes.

 

I look up at his shining eyes. “We’re bred to believe that if it’s not a constant stream of fireworks then it’s not worth bothering about, and that’s wrong. A little boring is okay now and then.”

 

*****

 

Now we’re sitting on his (horrible) couch again, sipping more wine. He’s sitting the correct way, whereas I’ve abandoned my shoes and pulled my knees up to my chest, facing him. He turns to me and puts his glass on the coffee table. I feel as though I should do the same, so I do. “You know, Ben, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk!”

 

“What if I am?” he jokes.

 

“Well, then I’d have to congratulate you, because I _am_ feeling a little…SOBER. Sorry, sweet cheeks. It may not have been _legal_ to drink in America at my age, but did you really think I didn’t exercise my rights as a teenager to rebel and drink without permission?”

 

“Well, I—“

 

“Nah, man. I’m just kidding. I didn’t have a social life; I was on tumblr all through my teenage years! I didn’t have a shred of a social life.” I interrupt.

 

“Oh, yes, Martin’s told me all about tumblr, he’s even showed me his… Can I see yours?” he asks.

 

“Um, sure. Have you got a computer I can use?” He hands me a laptop, and I type applesmokedgouda.tumblr.com into the search bar. My blog is simple. The background is the same wallpaper as the set of 221B Baker Street, and the sidebar is the yellow spray painted smiley face. Which, in and of itself, would not be that bad if Ben saw, it would just show that I was an avid watcher of Sherlock and that I enjoyed it. But no, it _had_ to be worse. The very first post was some (*ahem* not child-friendly) fanart of John and Sherlock (*ahem* _embracing)._ “THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS” I shout, and scroll down, blushing furiously. The next post is somehow worse. It’s a gif set of Benedict having sex on a train from the BBC drama _Parade’s End._ “THAT’S NOTHING TOO” I shout and scroll, desperate to seem like I _wasn’t_ a crazed fangirl. So much for not embarrassing myself. I end up shutting the laptop when the next picture (just a plain picture of him, but it was the comments that me cringe) made its way to the surface of the blog. “You know what? Let’s not look at that. Lets just make out instead. Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud? I did, huh. Crap. Shit. Fuck. God dammit. I’m so sorry that was really inappropriate, I—“

 

He silences me with a kiss. It was a chaste, closed mouth kiss, over the moment it begun.

 

“Okay” I say.

 

“You talk too much when you’re nervous.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“It’s cute. You’re cute.”

 

I automatically retort under my breath, “Your _face_ is cute,” another one of my mannerisms from high school.

 

“You think so, huh? Well I think _you_ get cocky when you’re drunk. I think, when you’re drunk, your brain says things it normally doesn’t have the courage to.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” I reply cheekily.

 

“Yeah,” he says breathily, “and drunken words are sober thoughts”

 

“Yeah? And what are your sober thoughts telling you to say now?”

 

“All I can seem to think about is how much I want to kiss you.”

 

“So, Ben…” I begin.

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“Are you going to kiss me, or do I have to lie to my diary?”

 

“Well, technically, I already did, just a minute ago—“

 

“Shut up and kiss me, Ben!” I laugh.

 

Benedict turns to me and gets on his knees. He pushes my legs down so they’re not up to my chest, and he gets on either side of them. He pushes me down so my head is on the armrest of the couch and he leans in, very close. “Whatever you say,” he breathes. He takes my head in his hands and angles his head to the side and leans in so our lips are almost touching. He hesitates a moment; but only for a moment (though it feels like an eternity) and finally kisses me.

 

The kiss starts off closed mouth, but very soon, his tongue pokes out and licks my bottom lip, asking –begging- for entrance. I comply eagerly, and our tongues intertwine. His tongue dominates my mouth, poking around and exploring every last crevice. I take his tongue and suck on it, my hands tangling in his dark curly hair. I pull slightly, and he moans. I take this opportunity to reassert my control and push his tongue back into his mouth. It was my time to explore.

 

But he wouldn’t let me. It was a fight for control, and our tongues were the expert wrestlers. His perfect pair of lips leave mine and kiss the corner of my mouth, up my jaw and up to my earlobe. He takes my earlobe in my mouth and softly sucks, a sensation that provides stark contrast to the rough feeling of stubble grazing my cheek. A soft moan escapes me when he begins biting my earlobe. He moves his bites to the side of my ear, and I yelp when his tongue darts into my ear. I tighten my hold on his hair, getting him to moan again and return to my lips. I needed to taste him.

 

After completely dominating my mouth again, he moves to my neck, biting the soft skin where my neck meets my jaw. He then goes to my pulse point, sucking and biting and nipping, making my heart rate soar. All of a sudden, before I could even register the fact that he was gone, he was back, this time on my collarbone. He nipped and kissed; bruising and then healing, and he had me moaning his name among other incoherencies.

 

He moves lower, the upper halves of my breasts exposed by the strapless gown. He moves his right hand away from my neck and places it gingerly on my breast. He looks up at my face, as if asking for permission, and I lean up and give him a kiss full of passion to show that I allow it. He reaches underneath me and unzips my dress just enough to give him access to my braless breasts. My nipples are hard and erect, begging for attention. He grazes my left breast lightly with his thumb before lightly squeezing around the base. He begins to kiss in slow, tantalizing circles around my nipple, getting closer and closer until he finally flicks it with his tongue before taking it into his mouth. I’ve lost all ability to think clearly when he stops and kisses me again. His hand moves to my crotch, and somehow I manage to pull it back up, not ready for that. He breaks the kiss and scoots back to his side of the couch. I sit up, and both of us are panting.

 

“Should we talk about taking this…” he gestures to the space between us, “further?”

 

I laugh. “Sorry, Cumberbatch. Before you have sex with me you have to earn it. Take these two potatoes and this goat and bring them to the river valley where you will meet an old gypsy named Madam Zeroni. Carry Madam Zeroni back up the mountain on your back and allow her to drink from the stream while you sing for her. She will give you a necklace of beads. Return them to me to complete the quest.”

 

“Clever.” He says. “You’re a very clever girl, you know that?” he says as his hand travels leisurely down my stomach and down to my crotch. I smack his hand.

 

“Ben!” I chastise. “I’m serious! Not about Madam Zeroni, obviously, but I don’t want to have sex. Not tonight, at least.”

 

“You’re serious. Okay. I’m fine with that. I guess I’ll just take care of this,” he motions to his erection, “by myself. Unless… You want to help?”

 

“Clever! You’re a very clever boy, you know that?”

 

“Honestly, Rachel… You know, _there are approximately 1,013,913 words in the English language but I could never string any of them together to explain how much I want to murder you right now.”_

_“Ah, but if you murder me, I wouldn’t be able to do this, now would I?”_

 

My hands paw at his erection through his trousers. He tilts my head up and kisses my forehead. “Okay, it is going to be considerably more difficult for me to murder you now.”

 

I smile. “That was the idea.” I unzip him and begin to pull the trousers down. He lifts his hips up off the couch to give me more access. I pull down the trousers and the boxers as well. His manhood springs up, unfettered and ready. I move in front of him, so he is sitting on the couch normally, and I am on my knees in front of him.

 

I had never done this before, but I had read enough fan fiction to know exactly what to do in this situation. Placing my hands on his knees, I kiss up his thighs.  When I reach the tops of his thighs I look up into his eyes while slowly licking the tip of his cock.  His head falls back against the couch and his hands grabbed at my hair.  My hand wraps around the base of his cock as I open my mouth wide to slide in the expanse of him.  I didn’t let my mouth linger; instead I run my tongue back up and use just enough teeth to make him cry out and squirm underneath me. As he struggles to remain still, I lick the underside of his cock from tip to base, and as my right hand begins to pump, I take one of his balls into my mouth. I tickle it with my tongue and do the same to the other one.

 

I move back up to the head of his cock and poke my tongue into his slit. I remove my hands and take as much of him as I can into my mouth and immediately let it go. It was not a pleasant feeling, and I couldn’t breathe. I took the head of his cock into my mouth and wrapped my hands around the shaft. I began to twist in alternating directions as well as up and down. His hands tangled themselves in the hairdo that I had spent so long on.

 

“Mergh… Rachel… Fuck, I’m gonna…” is all he manages to choke out before I take as much of him as I can in my mouth and hum. The vibrations set him over the edge, as he tightened his grip in my hair, to the point of pain, and ejaculated. More liquid than I was expecting came into my mouth. I pulled him almost all the way out as I struggled to swallow the salty-tasting load. I licked him clean as he untangled his hands from my hair and mussed up his own.

“Rachel, fuck. That was… wow.”

 

I grin. “Pretty good for a first time, huh?”

 

“That was…? Wow, really?”

 

I shrug. “I read a lot of fan fiction.” I stand, zip my dress back up, and sit back on the couch, sipping the wine that was long ago abandoned. The taste in my mouth is interesting. I lick my lips experimentally, just tasting. It’s salty and tangy and there’s something about it that is just plain Benedict.

 

“You’ve got a little… I mean… Um… Here, come here.” Ben says. When I oblige, he softly kisses my chin, then moves to my lips. Already parted, his tongue moves in and we slowly caress each other. When I finally pull away, he said “You had a little… _something_ on your chin. I got it.”

 

“Thanks…”

 

“No, thank _you._ ”

 

“Y’know, I think at least some of my success tonight has to do with the fact that I am fairly drunk. I don’t know _how_ I’m going to get home.” I hint, hoping he’ll take me.

 

“Well… You could stay here.”


	5. 1,013,913 – Chapter 5

“Stay here?” I ask incredulously.

 

“Well sure. It’s a long walk back to your flat in the snow. I’ve got clothes you can wear, and I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed!” He jumps up enthusiastically.

 

“Ben I—“

 

“No, no, it’ll be great! Here, follow me!” He walks through a doorway, and is now out of my line of sight. I sigh, rise from the couch, and follow. Ben’s rummaging through a dresser drawer when I enter the room. He throws a big t-shirt and a pair of boxers on to the bed. “There!” he exclaims. “You can sleep here, and tomorrow I’ll make you breakfast and it’ll be great! C’mon, please stay the night? I really want to do this for you.”

 

“I… okay. Sure. Why not?” I say.

 

“Great! So here are some clothes, you get my bed, and I’ll take the couch.” He says with a smile and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

 

_What on Earth is happening right now,_ I thought, _why does he want for me to stay the night so bad?_ I pull out my phone to check the time. It’s just barely midnight. I change into the clothes Ben laid out for me, and ultimately decide that he didn’t have to sleep on the couch. I walk into the living/sitting room.

 

“Ben,” I begin, “Ben, you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

 

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not allowing _you_ to sleep here. You’ll mess up your back.” He says from the couch, already under a blanket.

 

I sigh. “No, Ben, what I’m trying to say is that it’s a pretty big bed… We could probably fit the both of us on there, no problem.”

 

“Oh, you mean… Oh! Ar-are you sure?”

 

“Cuddling’s not illegal, Ben.”

 

“Right, no, obviously. I just thought…”

 

“That because I didn’t want to have sex with you tonight it meant I didn’t like you?”

 

“No! Well, yeah.”

 

I imitate his deep British accent as best I can. “I am shocked that you think so little of me.”

 

 

“Alright, fine, point taken. We’ll both sleep on the bed.” He concedes.

 

“Awesome. So, you got a bathroom somewhere?”

 

“Just there.”

 

“Thanks” I say with a small smile. I walk into the bathroom and wash my face. Now, hair mussed up, face as fresh as the day I was born, in Ben’s ratty old shirt and pants, I make my way to his bedroom. I look around; he doesn’t seem to be in here, so I get to the bed and wait.

 

I stretch out in my most playboy-esque pose as Ben walks in to the room.

 

“Good _God_ you are beautiful.”

 

“Christ, Ben!” I giggle as I return to a normal sitting position. “It was a joke! See, I’m at my least beautiful right now, and I laid out all sexy! That’s the joke!”

 

“I disagree. Forgive me, but I think this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been. Your hair is messed up because _I_ messed it up. You have no makeup on; you look naturally beautiful. You’re sitting there in _my_ clothes and you look like the perfect picture of _mine_.”

 

“Christ, Ben.” I repeat at a level just higher than a whisper.

 

“Sorry, was that too much?” he asks as he sits next to me.

 

“No.” I answer. “Not at all.”

 

“Good.” He says as he pulls me in for another kiss. “Because you _are_ mine.” He whispers against my lips.

 

He holds me like he’s protecting me from all the dangers in the world, and as I drift off to sleep; I feel a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time, possibly even ever. I felt wanted.

 

*****

 

I’m rudely awakened by a shrill, beeping noise that will not subside. Ben’s not in bed, so I run into the kitchen. There he is, pan under the sink, desperately trying to get rid of the smoke and burned substance on the pan.

 

“Where’s the alarm?” I shout over the noise. He points above the stove. I dash into the dining room to grab a chair, and use it as a ladder to reach the smoke alarm. I somehow manage to pop out the battery, and I sigh in relief as the loud, shrill, intruding noise subsides.

 

Ben manages to get the burning _thing_ taken care of around the same time I finish with the battery. He opens a window over the sink to get rid of the smoke and steam.

 

“Heh. Team effort.” I chuckle weakly.

 

“Yeah.” He sighs. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to surprise you with breakfast in bed.”

 

“Well Ben, I am up now, and lucky for you, I am a _pro_ when it comes to making food. Especially breakfast. Now, let’s see here, what were you trying to make before I woke up?” I inspect the pan and the burned _thing_ in the sink. “Was this… bacon at some point?”

 

“Yeah. I thought it could cook while I was preparing the omlettes and then I went to the restroom, and I kind of forgot about it until _this_ happened.”

 

“Well, the good thing is, most of this meal is salvageable.” I spy a red mess on a cutting board. “Oh, Ben. Did you try to cut tomatoes? I’ve seen that cooking show. We _both_ know you shouldn’t be cutting tomatoes. Now, do you have any more?”

 

“Bottom drawer of the refrigerator. I’m sorry darling, I know. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

 

“Darling?” I ask as I emerge from the refrigerator. “That’s new. And you don’t have to apologize, Ben.”

 

“Do you like ‘darling’? I could call you something else, if you want.”

 

“Darling is fine,” I say, “Love is fine. Whatever you choose to call me, I will most likely respond.”

 

“Angel?”

 

“Mmm, not that one. That makes me sound like I’m some perfect creature that can do no wrong, where in reality, that is furthest from the truth. So no ‘angel’, okay?”

 

“You may not be perfect,” he begins, “but you are an angel in my eyes. But, if you don’t want me to call you that, then I won’t.”

 

“Thank you, Ben,” I say as I finish cutting the tomatoes.

 

“I found a pancake mix in the pantry, if we want to do that as well.”

 

“Sure!” I exclaim, “I’ll do the omlettes, and you do the pancakes.”

 

*****

 

 “So if nobody says ‘ _ICE_ to meet you, Mr. Disney’ when they unfreeze him, I’m gonna be pissed!” I say, telling one of my favorite jokes that I had written myself.

 

Ben laughs, and I smile at that, pleased to know that I could do that. “God, I hate puns.” He says once he gets his laughter under control.

 

“Well then, you shouldn’t be _my_ boyfriend, because that’s _all_ you’re getting out of me!” _Oh, crap. Did I say “boyfriend”? “_ Did I say ‘boyfriend’? Because I didn’t mean… If you don’t want to… Are we dating?”

 

“Ah, the ‘define-the-relationship’ talk. I knew this was coming.”

 

“Well?”

 

“Well, what?” he asked.

 

“Are we dating?”

 

“Obviously. We’ve been on two dates with each other, and I think this breakfast counts as a third. Hence the term ‘dating’.”

 

“Oh, Ben, you know what I mean!”

 

“Do I?”

 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake… Are we, quote un-quote, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

 

“Yes, I think it’s safe to say we’re together.”

 

I imitate his accent, “Oh, obviously we’re _together_ , we’re in the same room at the same time.”

 

He imitates my voice, and does a much better job than I did with his, “Oh, Rachel, you know what I mean!”

 

At that, I explode into giggles until he scoots over and kisses me. I pull away and carry the plates into the kitchen and wash them off. As I’m washing the various pans and utensils used to make the breakfast feast, I feel a pair of arms around my waist. The arms grow longer until there is a warm body pressed up against my back, and a chin on top of my head. I relax into the embrace, feeling wanted and appreciated at the same time. Ben kisses the back of my head as I dip my hands into the sink for nefarious purposes. I grab a handful of bubbles, and quick turn around and blow them in his face.

 

“Why you little--” is all he can manage to choke out, because before he has the chance to realize it, I’m kissing him, and he relaxes. His face is bubbly, and when I pull my hands up to his face, it doesn’t help much.

 

He pulls away first. “Did you want to shower?”

 

I comeback sassily “Did you want to join me?”

 

“Is that an option you’d be comfortable with?”

 

“No,” I reply, “Sorry, Cumberbatch. You gotta work before you get the goods. And I am the greatest good you are _ever_ gonna get.” I finish quoting one of my favorite movies, _The_ _Incredibles._

“So, shower…?”

 

“Yes, I’d _love_ one, thank you.”

 

“There’s a towel in there already.”

 

I kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Ben.”

 

*****

 

Now it’s Ben’s turn in the shower, so I watch telly, in his clothes with my hair rolled up in a towel on top of my head. I flip through the channels until I find Doctor Who. It’s a David Tennant episode; The Satan Pit. One of my favorites, and coincidentally, the first episode of Doctor Who I had ever watched. I hear the water shut off, and Ben comes out in a band t-shirt and jeans. He sits next to me on the couch and puts an arm around me, holding me close. I breathe in the scent of him; shampoo and soap and aftershave and something that is just _him_.

 


	6. 1,013,913 – Chapter 6

“You don’t have to be anywhere today, do you?” Ben asks.

 

“No, not that I know of… Why? Have you got something planned?”

 

“No, I just didn’t want to be the reason you didn’t do something you were supposed to.”

 

“You’re so sweet, Ben” I say, and crane my head up for a kiss. It was just a quick peck, but it was more than enough to make me internally scream. I look around, and on the floor next to the telly is a Play Station. “That’s a PS3?” I ask.

 

“Yeah. I just got this old game, Little Big Planet, and I think it has a two-player option. You want to play?”

 

“Hell yeah, man! That’s like, my favorite game!”

 

*****

 

“Yes! We did it!” I exclaim, giving Ben a high-five. “That level was _hard._ ”

 

“It was indeed. Do you want to keep playing?”

 

“Nah, let’s just hang out. We can talk for a while. There’s so much we don’t know about each other.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know, there’s plenty I know about you. Your name is Rachel Fischer, you’re twenty-six, you never went to college or university, most likely because you finished high school early; you’re a clever girl, nothing wrong with that. You’re prone to panic and anxiety attacks and bouts of depression. You’re bisexual, but you’ve never had a serious, long-term relationship with either gender, not because you didn’t want to, but by forces outside your control.”

 

“Okay, _Sherlock,_ that’s enough now.” I tease. “So, did you deduce all that, or did you talk to someone?”

 

“You were still logged in to your tumblr account. A ‘Wayward-assbutts’ sent you a message. I correctly assumed it was one of your friends, and asked her a few questions about you. I knew about the panic attacks from when we first met, and I had done a little research on you before meeting you; talking to former cast mates, directors, watching your reel, good stuff, by the way, you know, that sort of thing.”

 

“W-why?” I ask. “Why did you do so much research?”

 

“Because I want to know everything about you, Rachel. When I was in school, I was learning new words and places, now I want to learn your favorite color and your middle name. I want to know you, Rachel; I want to know your soul.”

 

“I so wish I could be just as eloquent as you when I talk, but literally the only thing I can think to say here is ‘ditto.’”

 

Ben chuckles. “Ditto” he smiles.

 

“Ditto.”

 

“So, miss Rachel, tell me about yourself.”

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

“What are you afraid of?” He asks.

 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this conversation?”

 

“I’m sure. I want to know so I can keep you safe.”

 

My heart melts and I sigh. “Okay, here goes. I’ve an inherent fear of knives, been afraid of them since I was a baby. But I’ve gotten better from having to cook so often. Abandonment. Failure. My father. Eighth grade boy Michael Lacey. Well, he’s like twenty seven now, but I was afraid of him when we were in eighth grade.”

 

“Okay, so, this Michael boy. What happened?

 

I debated on whether or not I wanted to tell him. “Michael, he… he, um… raped me.” the last two words were hardly a whisper.

 

“Oh. I, um... I’m sorry to hear that. Is there, uh, anything I can do?”

 

“Ben.”

 

“Okay. Good! We’re learning about each other!” He quickly changes the tone of the conversation.

 

“Not really, the only thing that’s happening is that you’re learning about me. Let’s change that. Name one thing you’re afraid of, and tell me why.”

 

“Eternity. I am afraid of eternity. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me when I die, and not knowing scares me” he confides, barely above a whisper.

 

Not knowing what to say at this point, as he can change the mood of the conversation so quickly, I simply reply with an “I feel you.”

“ ‘I feel you’? ‘I _feel_ you?’ Rachel, are you serious? I tell you my biggest fear, and you reply with ‘I feel you’?!” Ben tries to sound angry, but he can’t keep the giggle out of his voice and the grin off of his face.

 

“I just figure, y’know. Nobody knows what happens, you know, eternally. So I figure, make your life your eternity, and make it a good one.” Holy shit. Did I just say that? That was fuckin’ _deep._

 

“Oh, I intend to.”

 

Ben takes my hand, and something forces me to look back at him when I cast my eyes toward the floor, embarrassed. God. I could get lost in those eyes of his. After opening my eyes after a long blink, his eyes were closer to mine, and his pupils were dilating. My mind is going a million miles a second, trying to form a sentence, trying to think of something as his perfect lips moved closer and closer to mine.

 

Then—nothing. No thought; no words. Just the sensation of the warm, comfortable pressure of his lips on mine. His large, warm hands caressing my sides, back, and face. I instinctively reach up to his head and tangle my fingers in his still-damp hair. Some time passes before things begin to heat up.

 

“Darling, I don’t want to pressure you into anything, but I need to know if we’re going to do something right now.”

 

“And, by something you mean…?”

 

“Rachel. You know fully well what I mean.”

 

“I’m sorry Ben; I just… I can’t. Not yet. I just can’t stop imagining everything that could go wrong. Like, what if this is just a fling for you to pass the time?”

 

“I would think an avid fan of mine such as yourself would know how badly I want to be married, to have children. I don’t do flings.”

 

This time, I leaned over and kissed him.

 

*****

 

It was after midnight when I left his flat.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here?” Ben asked.

 

“Benedict. People will talk!” I said in a mocking tone.

 

“Oh, let them! Let the world know that I’m dating a beautiful woman!” He shouted.

 

“Goodnight, Mr. Cumberbatch.”

 

“Goodnight Miss Fischer.” He winked, and I melted a bit.

 

*****

 

When I got back to my flat, I pulled my laptop onto my bed and logged on to tumblr. As I snuggled under the covers, I also surfed my dash, and happened to come up on some fanart of, well, Ben’s portrayal of Sherlock… pleasuring himself, with the good Doctor watching. While reblogging it, in the tags I wrote _#bigger in real life_ and _#not what his o-face looks like._

I was tired, and not thinking straight when I wrote this. I found it hilarious, but some of my followers… Well, let’s just say the Cumbercollective gets agitated easily. I received messages and anon asks containing remarks like “ _How would you know, bitch?”_ or _“You’re just a fucking fangirl like the rest of us. Shut up.”_

So that was a bad move on my part. Oh well, the damage has been done, and most of the internet thinks I’m kidding. Only Shannon knew. Sortof.

 

I fell asleep to the imagined sound of a hoard of angry fangirls typing inane messages.

 

*****

 

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was a dark silhouette of a tall, angular man against a blinding light. “Still dreaming… Lucid. Lucid dreaming. That’s what’s happening right now.”

 

As I got up out of bed, the silhouette took a more recognizable shape. The shape of Benedict.

 

“You’re dreaming?” Dream-Ben asked. “How can you be sure?”

 

“Oh, I know. If I do this,” I rose from the bed and crossed the room to the figure, “Nothing of consequence will happen.” I got on my tiptoes and gave him a kiss with as much passion as I could muster. “And everything will happen exactly the way I want it to.”

 

“What is it that you want to happen?”

 

“Dream-Ben, you are a part of my imagination. You know what’s going to happen here.”

 

Dream-Ben chuckled, low and soft, under his breath. “Rachel. I—“

 

“Shh.” I silenced the specter with a kiss, and led him to my bed, not taking my lips off of his.

 

I pulled him down on top of me, and he kissed me, just once, as we got settled. He rose up, holding my arms above my head in only one hand. “Rachel. You are fully awake right now. It’s Monday morning, and we have to go start shooting. This is not a dream.”

 

_What._ I thought. “What.” I said.

 

“Yeah.” Not-A-Dream-Ben said.

 

“So I just…?”

 

“Yeah.” He repeated.

 

“And we’ll never speak of this again?”

 

“You’ve got it, love.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Okay, so the reason I haven't posted an update in a while is because... Well, embarrassment, mostly. It's smut. Like, pure smut. Just, this whole chapter is smut. Yeah. All right. Here we go. Enjoy.

I dressed quickly, and we rode to the studio.

*****

 

 Ben picked me up every day for the next few weeks. We didn’t have a day off together for a month after our first weekend together. Before we left to go home, he stopped me as we walked out to the parking lot.

 

“We’re both off tomorrow, and I’ve got some free time tonight. Do you want to do something?” He asked.

 

“Ben. You said we had free time?  _Time is money_ , money is power, power is pizza, and pizza is knowledge, let's go!”

 

“I, what?” Ben looked confused.

 

“Sorry. I just caught up on Parks and Rec last night. It’s kinda stuck in there.” I pointed to my head.

 

“Right. So, pizza then?”

 

“Sounds good to me!”

 

*****

 

We rode to a nearby pizza joint and took solace in the warmth of the establishment. The lighting was dim, but bright enough to see. Candles were burning everywhere, and what sounded vaguely like the Italian song from Lady and the Tramp was playing over the sound system. There were a few others in the restaurant, but not many. It was incredibly idyllic and romantic.

 

“Wow.” I breathed.

 

“Nice, innit?” Ben asked, smiling at me. “Just a little place I’ve found.”

 

“It’s lovely.” I smiled back up at him.

 

He leaned down, cupped my head in his hands and kissed me. It might have lasted a second, it might have lasted twenty minutes, but it was sweet and gentle, and held a little bit of passion. My head was swimming when he pulled away. He kissed my forehead, then pulled away, taking my hand and leading me toward the counter.

 

“Alright love, how’s a calzone sound?”

 

“A calzone, Ben? What? If you say ‘let’s get pizza,’ then we get pizza, not a fancy-ass calzone!” I tried so hard to keep my cool as I said this, but just ended up laughing.

 

Ben laughed along with me, his eyes (green in the candle light) twinkling.

 

*****

 

We ate our slices in relative silence, occasionally chatting about the film, as we both had so little of a social life outside of the cast. At one point, without my knowledge, my hand had ended up in his. I had a fairly normal sized hand, but his large one dwarfed it so. He smiled at me; sweetly, lovingly.

 

“Can we go to your flat? Or-or my flat?” I spat out suddenly. Ben, clearly not expecting the forward question, just sat there for a moment, his thumb briefly stopping its usually ever-present circular motion across the back of my hand.

 

“Of course.” He finally said. “Do you have a preference?”

 

“Not… even at all. Nope.”

 

“Alright, let’s go.”

 

*****

 

We arrived at Ben’s flat in record time. “Wine?” He offered, helping me with my coat.

 

“No thanks. I want to be sober.”

 

“Why’s that?” He asked cheekily.

 

“I’d like to remember.” I responded with a wink.

 

“I’ve a record player in the bedroom…” He said after a moment, sensing my inability to get things started beyond that.

 

“Oh, maybe we should play some music, then.” We walked into the bedroom, and he chose a slow record I didn’t recognize. I climbed on the bed, slipping my shoes off as I stood. “Dance with me.” I beckoned, smiling sweetly when he indulged me. His shoes slipped off and landed next to mine, and left both of our feet clad in socks. His body melded to mine easily and comfortably. We danced on his bed for a while; the record had stopped spinning a long time before we finished dancing. “You should put another record on.” I suggested, helping him sit carefully on the bed before doing it myself.

 

Ben strode quickly to the record player, flipped the record over, and played the next side. He sauntered back over to me, eyes slightly darker than usual, making him seem more dangerous and attractive than usual. His body melded to mine once more, his head close to mine; his lips millimeters from my own. “I’m going to kiss you.” He whispered, only slightly above the music, just loud enough for me to hear him.

 

I smiled slightly. “So kiss me.”

 

“I’m going to.” He replied. “Just you watch.” His usually deep baritone voice was even deeper in this sensual whisper.

 

“Yeah? And when’s that gonna be? Sometime  _before_  the next World War would be nice.” I somehow had confidence in this situation. I was  _flirting._  I was flirting with  _Benedict Cumberbatch_.

 

“Oh, aren’t we the sassy one tonight, eh Miss Fischer?” And then a little softer, stroking my cheek, he whispered into my ear, “I’m going to kiss you now.” His breath hot, voice deep, I gave an involuntary shiver, and waves of pleasure radiated throughout my body. I watched my pupils dilate through the reflection in his own.

 

And then… He kissed me. He had kissed me before, but never,  _never_  before had I had a kiss before where someone poured that much love, passion, and sincerity. I reciprocated as best I could, attempting to yin to his yang, zig when he zagged, but he had captured my mouth and refused to give it up until I was dizzy and we were both gasping for breath. “Now  _that_ , sir, was a  _snog._ ” I emphasized both words, head still spinning, poking a finger into his chest. “I enjoyed that. ANOTHER!” I shouted, mimicking Thor.

 

This time, he was gentle. Soft, sweet, and  _so_  not what my body craved. I needed tension, roughness, pressure. I quickly let him know this by tangling my fingers in his hair, pulling to elicit a moan, and taking that opportunity to sneak my tongue into his mouth. He took hold of my tongue and sucked, hard, his teeth scraping the back of it until I was a whimpering mess in his hands.

 

Ben moved us closer and closer to the bed until I was forced to sit. He lied on top of me, enough pressure to where I felt him, and I  _certainly_  knew he was there, but he held a lot of his body weight on his forearms. I wanted him,  _needed_ him, but he was going to make me wait. We just laid there, kissing, until,  _finally,_ he moved his hand up to cup my breast, massaging it lightly, and thumbing over the nipple through the fabrics.

 

“Ben…” I half-groaned, half-whined.

 

Instead of the desired effect of spurring him on, what light pressure that was against me was gone completely. “What is it? Do you need me to stop?”

 

“No…  _Touch me._ ” I sounded desperate, but I didn’t care. “ _Please._ ” I reached up behind him and up above him to pull him back down to me, his body on mine, his head near mine.

 

Smiling, he nudged my legs open with his knee, and grinded his body into mine, sending rushes of heat to my core. My eyes once again rolled back into their sockets as his lips explored across my jaw, down my neck, and sucked on my collarbone. His hands skirted the hemline of my plain red shirt, teasing the small strip of skin that was exposed. I clawed desperately at his back, arching into him as he grinded against me, even harder.

 

Caught in my attempt to pull his shirt off, Ben chuckled darkly, and pulled it off for me, and then made quick work with mine. His hand skated lightly over the exposed flesh of my torso, and moved lower to ghost over the crotch of my jeans. His other hand reached behind me and deftly unhooked my bra in record time. I caught his gaze as he carefully slid the straps down my shoulders; his eyes almost completely black, save for a small ring of green. His lips, pink and swollen from kissing, curled into a smirk.

 

“I told you I was going to kiss you.” He growled into my ear.

 

“That you did—oh!” I gasped as he removed the bra from my body, exposing my nipples to the cool air of the night.

 

As he pushed against me, grinding into me, searching for friction through our clothes, his lips moved down to one nipple, sucking, flicking, lightly nibbling, while his hand rolled and tugged the other, raising them into high points. It occurred to me, somehow, in the back of my brain, that we were dry humping. I ignored the thought. I didn’t care. I just knew that I was here and he was here, and we were here  _together_ , in this moment, and I loved every part of it.

 

“Do you want to go further?” He practically purred into my ear, leaving me a whimpering, shivering mess.

 

“ _Please_ …” I gasped, fisting my fingers into his dark, curly locks, pulling him close to me.

 

That seemed to be enough for him. Sitting back on his knees, he pulled my jeans off, leaving me with only a soaking piece of cotton covering my most intimate parts.

 

“Too many clothes…” I reached over and palmed his erection through his trousers. He slowly removed the remaining articles of clothing from his tall, toned, sinewy body. He stretched out above me, leaving me to marvel at his chest. His muscles, his chest hair, everything about him was beautiful and perfect. I tenderly reached up and caressed his abs, reaching up to stroke around his peck, quickly raking my finger across a nipple, eliciting a moan and a shiver from the man I had before me. “Condom…” I whispered as soon as the thought crossed my mind, far too important to ignore.

 

Benedict reached into the top drawer of the nightstand next to the bed, and, pulling out a silver packet, dipped his head down for another kiss before undoing the packet with his teeth. Oh. Man.

 

Watching the silver split apart at the mercy of his mouth was almost too much for me. This did not go unnoticed. He ignored the condom, and focused back on me. His breath, suddenly hot in my ear, surprised me. “Oh, don’t we have  _quite_  the fixation?” He purred. “Shall we see what sort of…  _trouble_  we can get into with my mouth?”

 

Without waiting for an answer, though it was a definite ‘yes’, his mouth moved down my body until he reached the only clothing that still remained on my body. He grabbed hold of my panties with his teeth and tugged, exposing only a centimeter of soft, supple flesh at a time.

 

I lifted my hips to give him better access, and he took full advantage of this. As soon as I did so, he yanked the offending article off of my body. Tossing them to the side without a care, he threw my legs over his shoulders and kissed the inside of my thighs, moving his kisses tantalizingly slowly to the junction where my legs met my body. He kissed and nibbled there for a moment, until I was writhing, aching for his touch in my most sensitive of areas. One hand wrapped around my hip, forcefully pushing it into the bed, keeping me still while his tongue teased my clit.

 

He slowly licked a stripe up my slit, and circled his tongue around my clit, driving me insane. With his free hand, he teased my opening with one long, cool finger. All of a sudden, he plunged the digit into me and sucked my clit into his mouth; the sudden, constant stimulation a stark contrast from the light teasing that he had provided before. His finger moved in conjunction with his mouth, curling and twisting, pushing in and pulling out.

 

And suddenly, when he found  _that_ place inside me, he began scratching it, rubbing it, curling up and around it, exploring it until the white-hot coil in my belly finally exploded into an explosion of passion, which I let out with a scream.

 

At some point, he had withdrawn his finger, but his mouth never left me. He spent ages licking me, cleaning me off, being extra careful around my oversensitive clit. Once I had regained my bearings, I pulled him up by his hair and kissed him as hard as I possibly could. He grabbed the once-forgotten condom, removed it from its packaging that had started this whole mess, and put it on.

 

My eyes grew wide. Right. That’s a part of sex. I had almost forgotten. Ben saw my concern and registered it. “We don’t have to, if you’re-“

 

He was cut off by me pulling him into another kiss, and I felt him relax against me. “Benedict Cumberbatch. Fuck me.”

 

And that was enough. He had enough self-control to only plunge into me once until I adjusted to his size. In and out he went, rocking us back and forth. I pushed my hips up to meet him, and he bottomed out inside of me. We were as connected as two people could possibly be, and I wanted to stay like that for as long as possible. However, when he started moving again, I had forgotten that wish, and focused on the pleasure.

 

My nails raked his back as we rocked together, clawing, trying to gain purchase. I hooked my heels behind his back, bringing him closer to me. His head dipped up, and I looked at him and saw his forehead glimmering in a slight sheen of sweat. He bit my neck, hard. Sucking and biting, rocking in and out, one hand reaching up to play with my nipples, and I was in ecstasy.

 

His thrusts grew more and more erratic as his bites increased in frequency, duration, and intensity. One more snap of his hips, and for the second time that night, I was gone. My walls clinging to him, milking him, set of his release, and when he bottomed out inside me again, he spilled himself into the condom.

 

He remained inside of me, and I felt him growing flaccid with each moment, but neither of us seemed to care. After a time, he finally pulled out of me and removed the condom. I had never felt so empty before. He kissed me on the cheek, and, ever the gentleman, walked off to fetch a flannel to clean us off. I was half-asleep when he did so.

 

Pulling me close to him, pulling the duvet on top of our naked bodies, he nuzzled my neck with his nose. I was so very close to drifting off into the realm of dreams when he whispered in my ear, probably certain I was sleeping. “Rachel Fischer. There are 1,013,913 words in the English language, yet none of them, in any conceivable combination, could express the love I have for you. I love you.”

 

I was so far asleep that I couldn't respond. But I shared his sentiment. Benedict Cumberbatch and I were in love. Deeply, truly, madly in love. I sighed and settled into his body, warm and comforting, and fell asleep. 


	8. 1,013,913 - Chapter 8

I awoke to the shrill, electronic trilling of my iPhone. That particular warning tone meant one thing, and one thing alone-I was on the receiving end of a call from my mother.

I answered the device quickly, shushing it so it wouldn't wake the sleeping man next to me. “Hullo?” I asked groggily. My mom hadn't quite grasped the concept of time zones yet, and didn't understand that while it was only 8 pm for her, it was 4 am for me.

“Is it true?!” She demanded shrilly. I got out of bed and rummaged through Ben's wardrobe to find a jumper and a pair of lounge pants.

Walking into the sitting room, I countered; “What, the fact that it's 4 in the morning? Because yeah, that fact is very true.”

“Sorry, sweetie. So, I was talking to some of the girls at work today about your movie, and we looked it up on the Internet, and it said Humptyback Bandersnatch was in it!” That was how she affectionately referred to Ben during my high school fan-girl days. “Is it true?”

I laughed. “Yeah, Mom. It's true.”

She gasped. “You love him!”

“Easy, Mom!”

“What's wrong?” she asked, suddenly concerned. I realized I was going to be on the phone with her for a while, and not be able to go back to bed, so I put her on speaker and began fixing myself a cup of tea. “You always say you love him. Well, I guess it's different, now that you've actually met him and all, unless...”

I gave her a moment to work out her train of thought. She gasped. “No!”

Smiling, all I gave her was a small “yeah,” and for once, my mother was speechless.

“I do, though. Love him, I mean.” I took a sip of my too-hot tea, staring at the phone lying on the counter. “I mean, we haven't really said it yet. Well, he said it like, right before I fell asleep. I didn't get a chance to say it back.”

“Sure you did.” A deep, baritone voice pointed out. I whipped around, and there was Benedict, standing in only his pants. “Just then.”

A quiet chorus of “ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod” echoed through my head, until I realized it wasn't my thoughts, but my mother.

“Mom?” I asked quietly. “I'll call you back.” I ended the call, set my phone on the kitchen counter, and faced Ben. Smiling sweetly, I asked, “Did I wake you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don't change the subject.”

“I feel like Diana Ross and Lionel Richie should be crooning softly in the background.”

“Fitting, but not my favorite.”

“Mine either.” I stretched. “Well, look at the time. I should probably go to sleep!” I attempted to dart past him, but his arm stretched out and kept me from going anywhere.

“Rachel.”

I looked into his eyes, and saw so many emotions, all at once. Love, anxiety.

“Benedict.” I whispered.

“Did you mean it?”

The few seconds in between his question and my answer were agony for the both of us.

“Yes.” We stood in silence, and the pain left his eyes, leaving them full of one thing: love. “Did... did you?” I asked, softer than a whisper.

“Yes.” He responded, before pulling me flush against him and kissing me senseless.

He pulled back, and when I opened my eyes, I saw him smiling at my dazed expression. “I.” Kiss on the forehead. “Love.” Kiss on the nose. “You.” Kiss on the lips.

*****

We didn't make it to the bedroom. At first, he lifted me onto the counter in the kitchen, but there was too little space to do much more than kiss. When we tried, it just proved awkward. I giggled, hopped down, and dragged him into the next room, which happened to be the living room. I tripped over my own feet, but luckily managed to land on the sofa, where I pulled him on top of me.

Giving me a mischievous smile with a glint in his eyes in the light of the rising sun, he kissed down my neck, shoulders, and chest before reaching my stomach. When he pulled the jumper up my body and began kissing down my stomach, I stopped him, and pulled the jumper back down.

“What's wrong?” He asked.

“I just... Have a thing.”

“A thing?” he repeated, confused.

“A thing. About my stomach. I... I don't let anyone touch my stomach. I just can't.”

Ben looked at me, and I'm sure he saw the pain in my eyes. I was relatively fit; granted I had curves and little loose skin, but I was incredibly self-conscious about my stomach. He smiled sweetly. “Okay.” He said. “That's fine. But maybe...” He nipped at my bottom lip. “I can help you...” Nipped my jawline. “Forget for a moment.” Then, his mouth began a full-on assault on my neck. He was rough, biting and sucking, and I relished every second of it.

My hands fisted in his hair, he mouthed my breasts through his jumper, and moved his hands lower, to the waistband of the pants I was wearing. He looked into my eyes, asking permission, and I nodded, apprehensive of what was about to happen. Yes, we had done this a few hours ago, but now there was the sunrise streaming through the window, and he was about to see my deepest secret. My secret that nobody knew about. Not my Mom, not my best friend, not even my journal.

He slowly pulled the pants down my legs, looking into my eyes the whole time. I lifted my knees to give him better access to remove the garment, and he did so swiftly. Once my bottom half was bare, he ran his hands up my shins, grazing over my knees, and finally, my thighs. He felt them, and looked down at my right thigh; at the raised lines on my skin; some still angrily red, some more pink, others white with age.

Most were just lines, but there were a few words I had carved when I was feeling particularly horrible. Words like “FAT” and “HATE” and “ALONE.”

“Oh, Rachel...” he whispered, gently tracing a few with his fingertip.

I couldn't help the tears that poured out of me silently. “You... You're the only one w-who knows.” I confessed. I knew that this was a lot to take in, and I expected him to tell me that now he couldn't love me.

“Telling you this won't fix you. I know that. But I need you to know that I love you.” His hand rubbed my thigh, gently, as he looked into my eyes. “Not 'in spite of' anything. Not 'even though' anything. I love you.”

*****

I snuggled up against Ben's body, a throw blanket over our naked bodies. We simply laid on the couch snuggling, basking in the afterglow of what I now considered to be my favorite activity. “What do you want to do today?” Ben asked.

“Well, we could do that some more...” I smiled hopefully. Ben kissed the top of my head.

“Well, I'm not 18 anymore, I'm going to need a minute.”

I giggled and turned around in his arms to face him. He stroked my neck softly, with one cool finger, and I realized it was a bit painful. “Well, it's not going to be a secret anymore, I guess.”

“Well, with the mind-blowing shagging, I think I can live with people knowing.” He responded.

I giggled and blushed in spite of myself, burying my face in his chest. “You're adorable.” He chuckled.

“Shut up.” I giggled into him. I sighed, and completely relaxed against him.

After an hour or so of dozing on the sofa, I rolled over, and fell onto the floor, pulling the blanket with me, and landing with a low thump. “Mrrrrgh.” I groaned. Ben groaned as well, from the loss of warmth and contact. He groped around blindly for the blanket, and when he couldn't find it, opened his eyes to find me on the ground, tangled in the blanket. He laughed.

“I fell.” I told him.

“I can see that.” He deadpanned.

“You hungry?” I asked. “Because I'm starving.”

“I don't have any food in the fridge.” he muttered.

I huffed. “Typical bachelor.”

Rolling his eyes, he stood and untangled me from the blanket and helped me to stand. Naked, this man was an Adonis. A chest chiseled from marble, and the light spattering of chest hair made him even more beautiful. “I suppose we'll have to go out, then.” He smiled, and gave me a light tap on the bottom, herding me towards the bathroom. “Shower.”

I smiled. “Alright, but no sex. I really don't want to explain to Andy how I broke my tailbone the day before the horse scene.”

Ben's face turned into one of mock disappointment. I giggled again, and we took our shower.

*****

Let me tell you, if you ever take a shower with your boyfriend, your tits will come out sparkling clean.

With my bra on, I realized how tightly Ben's jumper fit me across the chest, but neither of us were complaining. “You should keep some clothes over at mine.” He suggested casually.

“Yeah, I think I will.” I smiled up at him.

We walked a ways in the cold air, hand in hand, and it occurred to me that Christmas was coming up.

“Ben?”

“Hm?”

“What day is it?”

“Thursday, love.”

“No, I mean the date.”

“Ah.” He pulled out his phone. “December 23rd.”

“OHMYGODIT'SCHRISTMASEVETOMORROW” I shouted. “I have to... Gifts! Oh, Christ, what am I going to do?” I moaned.

“Love, relax. You can go shopping today. But first, you need to eat something. Maybe get a cup of hot chocolate in you.”

“But--” I protested.

“Shh. We're here.” We had arrived at a quaint little cafe, another one of Ben's secret eateries.

He pulled me in, and we both had some pancakes. Midway through the meal, Ben's phone rang.

“Oh. Sorry, love. I've got to get this. Please excuse me.”

“Of course. Go for it.” Ben stepped of the booth and walked until I was out of earshot. I decided to use this time to check tumblr on my phone. The first post on my dash was a long-awaited update to a fanfiction I'd been reading for a while, featuring the reader and Tom Hiddleston.

“Finding the empty room at the movie premiere, your date pulled you in and stared at your lips, swollen from his kisses. Overcome with lust, he pulled you close to him, and gave you yet another searing kiss. 'Tom...' you moaned when he found your sweet spot with his mouth, and slipped a hand up your dress to your uncovered core to find you were ready, so ready for him. He slipped one finger just past your folds, and pulled right out. Whimpering at the loss of contact only spurred him on. You heard the sweet sound of his zipper being pulled down, and he lifted you on top of him, his mouth muffling your cries s he slammed you down on top of him, setting a brutal pace--”

“Ahem.” Ben's voice brought me back to reality. “What are you reading?”

I quickly locked my phone. “Nothing!” I shouted, but my face was a shade of red that rivaled a lobster.

“Really? Because with you squirming around like that... Biting your lip to keep from moaning... I'd say you were reading something incredibly dirty.”

I feigned innocence. “What? Me? Hah. No. Nope. No, siree. Uh-uh. Nope.”

Ben sat down again, on the other side of the table and leaned in close to me. “Tom...” he whispered seductively. “You moaned when he found your sweet spot with his mouth and slipped a hand up your dress to your,” he lowered his voice even more “Uncovered core... to find you were ready. So ready for him...” he trailed off.

“Ben!” I squealed. You can't just... Don't read over my... Oh, God.”

“Would the 'Tom' in question happen to have the surname of Hiddleston?”

I took a long drink of the hot chocolate in front of me, lying by omission.

“Rachel.”

I set the mug down. “Okay, before you say anything, just let me explain. I was reading this fanfic and it just has a really good plot and the occasional smutty chapter, and I was just really engrossed in it, and when you went out to answer your phone, I checked tumblr and it was just right there and so I started reading it, and it was a smutty chapter, and...yeah.”

He laughed. “Don't laugh at me!”

“Why not? It's funny.”

“Shut up, Ben.”

“Alright, alright. Ready for gift shopping?”

“Hang on, let me make a list.”

*****

We walked through different stores, shopping for different people. I decided to get gag gifts for Jonah and Andy, and a nice perfume for Liza.

To find the right present for Jonah, I had to make a detour into an... adult store. I bought him a box of pasta that may or may not have resembled a phallic part of male anatomy. Penis pasta. I bought him penis pasta. I couldn't look the cashier in the eye; meanwhile Ben laughed his ass off.

For Andy, I stumbled upon a “nerdy” store that was sure to become my favorite store in London. It had everything fandom-related. Doctor Who, Sherlock, Star Trek, Pokemon, Lord of the Rings, The Avengers; you name it. Ben waited a good distance away, because he didn't want to be recognized. I picked out a plush version of the USS Enterprise and a ball-jointed doll of Captain James T. Kirk.

I found a nice jumper that my mom was sure to like, and a tie for my dad in a department store, along with the posh-sounding perfume for Liza. All that was left were for the two most important men in my life. My little brother, and Ben.

“Benny? What do 16-year-old boys like?” I asked as we walked through the current shop.

“From my understanding, it's naked women that top the list.”

I smacked his arm lightly. “What should I get for my little brother?”

“Well, what does he like? What are his interests?”

“Sports. All sports. He's just... Really good at everything athletic. He's on the JV football team, captain of the frosh-soph cross country/track team, MVP of the baseball team... He's just really incredible.”

“Alright, I have no idea what you've just said.”

“Sorry.” I apologized. “JV stands for Junior Varsity. Varsity is only for Juniors and Seniors, which are grades eleven and twelve. Junior Varsity is for the Juniors and Seniors that don't make it on to the Varsity team, as well as the Freshmen and Sophomores which are really good. Freshmen and Sophomores are grades nine and ten. And by football, I mean American football.” I concluded.

Ben looked a bit gobsmacked. He shook his head, clearing it. “Right. So, sport?”

“Yeah. Maybe a jersey?”

“I suppose.”

“And what is it that you'd like for Christmas, Mr. Cumberbatch?” I asked, teasingly.

“You to accompany me to my parent's house to celebrate the holiday.”


	9. 1,013,913 - Chapter 9

I stopped dead in my tracks. “You want me to come over, to your childhood home, on Christmas Eve, and meet your parents?”

“Yes.” He said simply.

“Okay.” I agreed. “Alright, but you’re getting a real present, too.”

“As are you, darling. What is it that you’d like?”

“You didn’t tell me, so I’m not telling you.” I smiled. “How about we shop for each other for and hour or so, and then meet up here?” I proposed, and he agreed.

Ben leaned down for a kiss, and when I tried to pull away, he brought me back in, smirking against my lips. “I’ll never tire of kissing you.” he whispered.

“You might, once I tell you this secret,” I grinned cheekily, pulling his head down to my level. “My knickers are in your inside coat pocket.” I whispered seductively into his ear. After giving his lips a quick peck and booping his nose, I turned on my heel and walked off, swinging my hips a little more than was strictly necessary until I was out of sight. As I turned the corner, I saw him clutching his jacket pocket out of the corner of my eye.

_Now. What to get the man who seems to have everything. Think, Rachel, THINK! Something… Intimate, but not overbearing; we haven’t even been dating that long. Well, I am spending Christmas at his parent’s house, so that’s a pretty big step… I suppose something that really embodies HIM, as well as our relationship. What could that be? What is Benedict? Well, he’s an actor, he looks good in a suit…_

“Oh! Oh, my.” Throughout my internal rambling, I didn’t realize I had found him the perfect gift. Cufflinks. A comedy mask and a tragedy mask. Polished, sterling silver. I bought them and didn’t bother to check the time; I had plenty left before we were supposed to meet again. I soon found myself back in “The Nerd Emporium” as it was named, just browsing. Towards the back of the store, I found a small section devoted to Disney merch. It didn’t take long until I found the exact DVD I wanted – the very first Disney movie; Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs; Deluxe Platinum edition.

The cashier from earlier recognized me, and we chatted for a bit, until I realized I had to go meet Ben. I asked for a large bag to place all my purchases in, so Ben would have no idea where his gifts came from. I thanked the kid behind the counter, and left to meet Ben.

*****

“I’m keeping them.” He informed me as we walked back to his flat. I smirked.

“Alright.”

“I mean it; you’re not getting these back.”

“I know.”

Ben practically growled as we walked up the street his flat was on. “You  _minx_. What  _am_  I going to do with you?”

“Catch me; if you can.” I sprinted ahead of him to the door of his flat, before realizing I didn’t have a key. His long legs didn’t keep me waiting, though. Our mouths melded together, and soon, the only thing keeping me upright was the pressure of Ben’s body holding me against the door.

I broke away first. “I love you, you know.” He whispered.

“I know.” I smiled. “And I love you. Now, go drop of your gifts, and we’ll go over to mine for tea. It’s getting late, and we have to be on set early tomorrow.” Granted, it was Christmas Eve the next day, but it was a half-day, and it was horse day. “Horses, tomorrow, Ben. HORSES!” I squealed.

*****

I made us some pasta, and Ben asked if he could spend the night, and I told him he could.

I set him up on my laptop so he could email his agent, and I read one of the three books I was currently engrossed in.

“F. Scott Fitzgerald?” Ben asked when he finished his email.

“Yeah. I’ve always really loved Gatsby.” I held up the battered, weather-beaten cover as evidence. I resumed reading for a moment, but soon looked up at Ben again. “Okay, important question. I’m pretty sure you’ve read the book, right?” He nodded. “What’s your opinion on Daisy?”

“Well, she’s trapped by societal standards in a loveless marriage, and the man she truly loves ends up dead in a pool. So I’d venture to guess that she’s not a very happy person.”

“My thoughts exactly, except a bit deeper than that. I love this book for so many reasons, and Daisy’s character is one of them. You know the ‘beautiful little fool’ line? I think that line proves that Daisy is smarter than she lets on. She wept when she found out her child was a girl; because she knew that the patriarchy was in strong control at that time. The absolute best thing a woman could be at that time was a beautiful fool. Beautiful, so she would attract male attention, and get a man to take care of her; and a fool so she would never realize how oppressed she is. Daisy is incredibly smart; she knew Tom was cheating on her from the beginning. She’s trying so hard to live in denial; but it’s difficult for her, because she’s incredibly bright, and sees the world for what it truly is; something that even Gatsby couldn’t do. So no. She’s not a very happy person.” I finished my rant, and Ben was staring at me.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you right now?” He asked.

“I’m gonna go with ‘a lot’?”

“Sexy, compassionate, beautiful, incredibly talented, and smart, too. You are the complete package.”

“Oh, Ben.” I swatted his arm when he came close to my spot on the bed. “Shut up.” I said, my face radiating heat.

“When you’re embarrassed, you turn the most delightful shade of pink.”

I giggled, and probably turned a deeper shade of red. I bookmarked my page and pulled him on top of me. “I love you.” I whispered, burying my face in his chest, inhaling his scent.

“Tired?” he asked, and I yawned in response. He chuckled. “Go change, then.”

*****

We lay snuggled together for the rest of the night; or at least until 3 am. My phone played its alarm.

“Ben.” I nudged him after turning it off. He groaned. “Ben.” I said with a little more force. He still didn’t wake. I leaned in close to his ear. “Ben, I’m getting in the shower, where I will be completely naked and slippery…” Nothing. I sighed.

“No, we can’t, Tom’s gonna be here soon.” he said sleepily, with a slight lisp.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” I laughed. “What happens when Tom gets here?”

“He’s gonna go camping… in a tree.”

I laughed again, fairly loudly. Ben opened one eye. “What s’funny?”

“Tell you later. C’mon now, get dressed. I’ll put the kettle on, and then we have to go.”

I herded the sleepy Ben into clothes, a cab, and to the set. Craft services had set up caffeinated beverages, and Ben gravitated toward those, while I looked eagerly for the horses.

I found Jonah first. I greeted him warmly, and handed him the wrapped box of pasta. He opened it eagerly, and laughed heartily once he saw what it was. “You bought this?” he asked, still chuckling.

“Yeah.” I admitted sheepishly. “Not one of my proudest moments.” He pulled me into a hug, and I pressed a kiss to his cheek. As I pulled away, he saw the red marks on my neck.

“Y’know, I’ve heard that cosmetics help with that.” He pointed to my neck. “Better get to hair and makeup quick, and hope they don’t ask questions.” I smiled and smacked his arm playfully.

Next, I found Andy, and I handed him his presents, which he didn’t open. He politely thanked me, told me I shouldn’t have, and all those pleasantries.

“So where are the horses?!” I asked, excitedly. Andy laughed, and pointed me in the right direction.

I walked briskly to the animals. I was met by a small, mousy-looking woman who introduced me to the horse I’d be riding that day.

“Hi! I’m Emmalee, and this is Moonlight Sonata, she’s a—”

“Dappled grey mare; known for their jumping and adaptability. By my estimate, she’s about 14 hands or so?” I interrupted.

“Yeah, 14.3; actually. You know your stuff. I’m impressed. Most actors have to have a training session of at least two days before filming, but Mr. Kirk says that you know how to ride.”

“Yeah, well. It’s been a couple of months, but I think I’ll be okay.”

Emmalee smiled at me. “You’re American.”

“So are you.”

“What’s your favorite style?” She asked.

“Well, I first learned Western, and I loved that, but some of my friends at the barn wanted me to try English, but I just never got the hang of it. I feel like it’s too showy, you know what I mean? But there was this horse I worked with when I was in high school, and we just really connected. My work put me in charge of her, because I was the only one she would let touch. She was abused; poor thing. Eventually, we got her fattened up, and I re-broke her. She absolutely  _hated_  saddles, saddle pads, bridles; even hackamores. She wouldn’t even take a halter. I just rode her completely bareback, and we connected on an intimate level. Have you ever had that? A connection so strong with an animal that it’s like the two of you are one entity? Anyway, Esmeralda was that for me. I really miss that horse. Excuse me; I’m rambling. To answer your question, bareback, but only with a horse I trust, otherwise Western.”

Emmalee looked at me with renewed light in her eyes. “Even in this line of work, I’ve never met anyone who feels the same way I do about horses.” She nodded behind me. “Seems like your boyfriend is impressed with your passion, too.”

I whipped around to find Ben staring wide-eyed at me. “Christ.” I muttered. “Does everyone know?”

“I think so, love.”

I smiled and shook my head, and turned my attention back to the horse. She was beautiful. I offered my hand to her. “Hey, Moony. Hey pretty girl.” The horse sniffed my palm, and, finding no treats, huffed a bit, but lowered her head so I could scratch just underneath her mane; a foul-proof make-that-horse-fall-in-love-with-you petting place. She nuzzled against my neck, and I pulled her head into a hug, which she returned in the only way a horse can.

“She likes you.” Emmalee noted.

“She’s such a sweetheart.” I replied, not once taking my eyes off of her. I exhaled, and she huffed, smelling the apple I had eaten on the way to the set. “Do I have time…?” I wondered out loud. I spied a PA, and asked her how long I had until I had to be in hair and makeup.

“M-miss Fischer, you have about 45 minutes,” she said shakily, checking her watch; “But Mr. Cumberbatch, they need you in t-ten.”

“Thank you… It’s Natalie, right?” I asked.

“That’s right, Miss Fischer.” Natalie replied, her eyes cast downward.

“My name is Rachel, okay Natalie? And you are free to refer to me as that.”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Hey, Natalie, really, it’s no big deal. Oh, and do me a favor, would you? If you see Liza, give her this with my warm regards.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Natalie.” And with that, she scurried off.

“So, seeing as I’ve got 45 uninterrupted minutes, do you think I could..?” I asked Emmalee.

“Oh, totally!” She agreed. Do you wanna try bareback?

“Yeah, Moony seems pretty cool.” I smiled, and the horse in question nuzzled my neck. “How receptive are her sides?”

“Incredibly. She’s quick, can turn on a dime, and loves a good lateral.”

“Fantastic. She seems like a great horse.”

“You want a bridle? Reins?”

“Nah, let’s just see how it goes completely bare.” I moved to the left side of the beautiful horse and motioned to Ben. “Boost?”

Emmalee showed him how to knit his fingers together, and I hopped on the back of my new friend, Moonlight Sonata. Emmalee gave a little click with her tongue, and I gave Moony a small nudge with my heels.

“Ben?” I said as she began walking. “You might want to move.”

I fisted my hands in the horse’s mane, clicked my tongue twice, and gave her a swift kick. “Trot.” I commanded, and she took off.

Shoulders back, eyes up, heels down… No stirrups; right. Quiet hands, sit up… there. And the two of us were in synch. “Alright, Moony. Lope.” Another squeeze of my thighs, and she took off at a faster pace. I gave an experimental push with my left leg, and she took a sharp right, into the forest. I weaved in between the trees until I slowed her down to a working walk, when I turned her around, and saw a straight path to the clearing where we had began. It was a good distance away, and the pair of us got excited. “Woah.” I commanded in a deep, slow voice. “Okay, Moony. You and me, fast as you can go. Ready? GO!” I yelled as I squeezed tightly with my thighs, giving her a swift kick to get her started.

We soared back to the clearing; her feet hardly touched the ground. The only obstacle in our way was a small log above the snow, and when we jumped over it, for a brief moment, the two of us were flying. I was laughing in glee and excitement when we stopped a mere two feet from Andy; caught like a deer in headlights, too afraid to move out of the way. His foam cup dropped from his hand, spilling his coffee on the snow, turning it brown. I was over the moon.

“Hi, Andy!” I greeted him enthusiastically as I slipped off the horse. “Didn’t mean to scare you like that. Sorry!” I giggled.

Andy turned to the camera crew. “Please tell me you got all that.” One of the men nodded, and another gave a thumbs-up.

“I haven’t ridden in a few months, but Moony’s a great horse. She’s so responsive!” I enthused. I called over to Emmalee. “Is there a turnout somewhere? She needs a cool-down, and though I’d love to walk her a bit, I’ve gotta get to hair and makeup.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Emmalee insisted. “I’ve never seen riding like that. The two of you were meant to be.” She slipped a halter on Moonlight Sonata, and led her away. I went to makeup first, a little early, so they could cover the… evidence of the other night.


End file.
